Page 134 of Imperfect Player

“You swear you gave them to him?” I ask Dr. Monroe, Brad, Ethan’s therapist.

“I swear,” he tells me.

It’s the first straight answer I’ve ever gotten from the man.

Obviously, he could never give me any details on Ethan’s therapy sessions, nor would I ever want to invade his privacy like that. All I ever asked, ever wanted to know, was if Ethan was okay.

That, and if he gave him the letters I would hand-deliver daily.

Until today, his answer had been a resounding no. That meant that up until now, either Ethan wasn’t ready for them, or he had flat out refused to accept them.

According to Dr. Monroe, he gave Ethan the letters last week. All sixty of them.

A whole week he’s had them in his possession, and still I haven’t heard from him.

Not a thank you. Not an I miss you.

Crickets.

“That doesn’t sound good.”

Glancing up, I find Tripp standing in my doorway.

“Sorry. It’s fine. Just . . . ”

“Ethan?”

I nod.

“That’s actually why I’m here. I have a meeting with him in an hour. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to be around or not.”

I offer Tripp a soft smile. “Thanks for the warning.”

He nods.

“Is him being a client here going to be an issue for you?”

Yes.

“No.”

I just don’t quite know why he’s a client still. Is it still a condition of him being a Railcat, which I’m not even sure he still is?

Tripp has kept quiet about anything going on with Ethan. In fact, this is the first time that he’s even mentioned him to me.

Without even realizing it, I begin packing up my things.

“Clearly.”

There’s a gentle smile on Tripp’s face. I stop mid-shove of my notebook into my bag.

“It won’t be. Things are just raw right now. I appreciate the heads up, really. And I promise, this is the only time I’ll—”

“Everly, you don’t have to explain it to me. I get it. And I don’t give a damn if you ever look at the guy again.”

That’s the problem. I do. I want to see him. I want to hold him. I want him.

I understood him pushing me away during his recovery, that was understandable. He needed the time to process everything he’d been through. He wanted to recover, in peace, without having to worry about me or anyone else. He needed to do it alone.

---